Chapter Text
She’s lucky to not have the usual demigod dyslexia or AHDH, Sally thinks. Instead all she got was an allergy to peanuts. Dyslexia would be a pain considering her dreams of being a writer and the fact she’s currently investigating every single water deity in Roman mythology.
Because apparently she bedded a god. Sure, a god that said in no uncertain terms that their relationship was a mistake and dumped her, but a god nonetheless. A god named Adrian that spearheaded (trident-headed?) efforts for better habitats in aquariums, loved walks by the beach and knew every interesting fact about fish. Rather obvious in hindsight.
Her first thought had gone to Neptune as the high and mighty and feared God of the Seas, except Neptune hadn’t had a child in Camp since the American Civil War and his latest descendant supposedly caused an earthquake that destroyed camp and got exiled for it. She doubts he’ll be having any children anytime soon, especially if mere legacies are blamed for what was probably a natural earthquake.
Children of Apollo can’t cause plagues and daughters of Ceres don’t ruin every nearby crop when angered, so she doubts that Neptune’s descendants can cause earthquakes in the first place. Demigods don’t tend to inherit the most destructive parts of their parents' domains.
Her full name is also Salacia and she’d rather not think about the implications behind Neptune possibly dating her.
After a quick trip to the nearest library and a rather awkward conversation about why she’s borrowing half a dozen books about Roman mythology, she has everything she needs to figure out her daughter’s parentage. Or she hopes, at least. An internet search would be faster but is not like she’s used a computer before, nor does she wish for a hellhound to bust through the doors and end as a puppy-murderer-book-destroyer criminal.
Adrian, or whoever his godly majesty’s name truly is, could have given her a pamphlet or something. One detailing her heritage, possible powers and other things to consider. Demigods usually inherit some fears or phobias due to their godly parents having traumatic events or enemies; children of Apollo often have ophidiophobia and almost all children of Vulcan have acrophobia.
Do children of the sea have claustrophobia? If Apollo killing a snake as a baby godling can end with most of his kids fearing the animal, maybe those of the sea fear closed spaces? Closed spaces are the polar opposite of the ocean, after all.
Can her daughter eat fish? Sure, demigods almost always adore their parents' sacred animal or food or place or whatever they consider sacred so her little Atalanta has everything in her room as fish-related, but can she eat it? Does it count as some weird cannibalism thing? Would she love eating tuna or despite it? Children of Ceres do love eating cereal…
What powers does she have? She already learned she can stay dry despite being partially submerged in water. Can she breathe underwater? Talk to fish? That would make the whole “eating fish” debacle even weirder. She can’t manipulate light in any form, but she knows some legacies of Apollo have done so in the past. Can Atalanta do the same with water?
And perhaps more importantly, how do you bathe someone not in control of their powers that can spontaneously dry herself?
After four hours of taking notes, a nap, dinner and having to calm down a crying Atalanta after she spilled some water on her favorite plushie and got it all soggy, Sally is nowhere close to figuring out her dad. She has already discarded Neptune, as well as Salacia for the same reasons as Neptune. Sure, her “boyfriend” (a debatable definition) may have been a man, but it is not like gods cannot change appearances. Her old centurion had both a mortal mother and divine mother, so sex doesn’t matter to them at all. She also hasn’t heard any rumors of children of Salacia inside the legion, but there might be some old records going in more detail.
In the end, she narrowed it down to four possible deities. Furrina, goddess of springs. Juturna, goddess of fountains, wells and springs. Fontus, god of wells and springs. Volturnus, god of all rivers.
She doubts it’s any of those four. Human sources on mythology are never the best, as demonstrated by the vague and contradicting myths. In some, Volturnus is the god of all rivers. In others, only the god of the Tiber. And in some he does not exist at all, and Tiberinus takes his place. Portunes might be another option as god of keys, doors, livestock and ports. Except his domain as god of ports is only mentioned in some texts, so she can’t be entirely sure.
It’s getting late and she needs to wake up early tomorrow, so she stops studying for the day. She goes to bed, noticing Atalanta fast asleep and hugging a shark plushie so tight that the poor animal would suffocate if it were alive. And able to breathe in land in the first place.
The next morning, every name in her notes has been marked with an X other than Neptune’s, who’s surrounded by a dozen arrows pointing at it. All in bright, red marker. Portunes name was crossed out and replaced by Portunus, with a little -10 above it. She has no idea what an archon is but Furrina is apparently one.
Scribbled below it all, in handwriting so poor it would give a doctor a heart attack, was written a simple note.
I’m yeeting Uncle N off Olympus next solstice, love u xoxo
ps: gib cookies pls :)
Only his great grand-father could make a happy face simultaneously look like a frown and a smile. She’ll have to teach Atalanta how to pray before breakfast, it seemed. She hopes that Apollo won’t mind her cute incoherent babblings, given she hasn’t spoken a word yet. Was that on track for a normal child? She was barely a year old and was just beginning to walk, although she could only take a few steps before losing her balance.
He’s not getting any cookies, though. She did not put in all that effort just for him to grade her work with a C. He can't lower her grade for "bad handwriting u gotta improve it" when that is entirely his fault.